


ichor

by macbethattempest



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Components of Greek mythology, Eurydice - Freeform, F/M, Orpheus - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 10:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7635940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macbethattempest/pseuds/macbethattempest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The diadem heats up with fire, the same fire he stole from the forge of Hephestaus; the fire of immortality that the Gods refused him.</p><p>And he looks up at the sky, a man with the life of a God, immortality running through his veins and he laughs mockingly and shakes his head in humour.</p><p>(his veins are filled with the brilliant ichor)</p>
            </blockquote>





	ichor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LORD PUMPKIN](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=LORD+PUMPKIN).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIN
> 
> Tomione one shot as a present, here goes.
> 
>  
> 
> All the love.

_Avada Kedavra_

A thud; a man falls lifeless to the ground.

A deep gasp; a soul is fractured.

A clink; the diadem comes alive.

He splits his soul in half and it's a small pinch he feels, the only herald of a miracle to come. He feels a fracture develop-snaking round his body and snaking round his soul-and a transference set in motion.

The diadem heats up with fire, the same fire he stole from the forge of Hephestaus; the fire of immortality that the Gods refused him.

And he looks up at the sky, a man with the life of a God, immortality running through his veins and he laughs mockingly and shakes his head in humour.

(his veins are filled with the brilliant ichor)

\----

His footsteps create marks against the gravel that lines the cave of Nemean. His wand is ready to carve death into the lion and he stations himself to the side, the twenty fifth of thirty days, his time nearly over.

Nemean rises from the lair and from the corner of his eye, Tom sees seven ragged girls trail behind him, their hands pulled in chains.

Tom is powerful but so is Nemean. Tom casts the most deadly of the unforgivable curses, but it reflects off the Nemean, killing a slave. And it's a battle which Nemean dominates, his magic burning through Tom's in flashes and he knows he's lost; the ignominy of losing to Hera, when a slave shouts her retribution.

"The back of his ear", her voice screeched across the valley.

The Nemean looks at the slave and his wand casts out as if to cast a spell, but Tom never stops and the spell from his wand pierces the back of his ear, and the Nemean's crippled and writhing in pain, a hit on his Achilles heel, and blood seeps across the ground.

Blood that Tom bends down and tastes. Blood that leads him to the slave. Blood that leads him to her. Blood that compels him to bend down and whisper in her ear. "Do you want to kill him?" And she marches forward and with a flick of the dagger that she digs deep into the back of his ear, ends the Nemean.

"And what might your name be?", Tom speaks, his blood stained hands soaking the pores of her pale cerulean skin.

The slave gasps in pleasure, the blood of the slaver dripping into her hair.

"Hermione".

(and the name nearly sings his ears)

\----

Great fires burn in the hearth and alder and poplar and the sweet smelling cypress lay home to Falcons and owls and sea-crows with chattering tongues. The island of Ogygia absorbs them; he, the unwavering Odysseus and she, the lovely Calypso.

Her mind captivates him and spins him and makes him feel like he's ignited and ready to explode; never has he seen such knowledge and keenness and never has his own brilliant mind been challenged and stimulated as such before.

And everyday of every week, he offers her an intricate locket to seal herself into, to join eternity with him, and everyday she laughs and kisses him.

(and turns the locket away)

\----

The pegasi fly around them in golden troughs made of valleys and cliffs. Streams flow through narrow crevices, nearly golden as they reflect the light of the sun, creating a glow around the valley that illuminates the entire area. 

Tom shows her the world and she shows him happiness and he rests in joy, _this is what life is._

And he offers her the locket again and she closes it in the palm of his hand and wears it around her neck, the metal scraping her warm skin, and laughs.

(turning the locket away)

\----

Tom proclaims she is the most beautiful being in the world and Hermione smiles and merely shakes her head, distanced away from her beauty; her brain the more potent part of her.

The wrath of the Nereids is hard to curb; beauty is their dominion, how dare a mortal touch their curve?

And they descend upon her like vultures, destroying her and her body, as she cries out into the night; alone in their home as Tom fulfils his labours.

He comes home to finds her bleeding, her body cut open in a hundred and million places, blood seeping into the ground, her breath laboured and injured. And he cries; he howls into the night, holding her supine body, his hands soaked with her blood, his throat raw with agony, his body on fire, as Hermione dies in his very arms.

And the gods watch from above.

(and turn a blind eye)

\----

 _What makes Tom so special?_ His wretched mother had asked his father one day, and his father had replied,  _perseverance._

And Tom perseveres.

The Underworld is no place for the living, yet he descends into the darkness, a place that reeks of morbidity and death, to retrieve her. He must and he shall; and he will.

His magic is a work of art; it swirls though the pivot of the gardens of Eden and through the Styx, lulling the dead and the Furies into a peaceful sleep, their dreams of Olympus and beyond.

His parseltongue creeps across the land and unto the dark creature at the Tartarus, and Hades bends down to his will. Yes, he shall get his love, but at a price;

 _he shan't look at her until he has reached the living land,  
or she comes back to bear death's stand_.

And Tom feels an eerie presence fill the room, the strange feeling of being trapped between life and death, and he closed his eyes and turns, his magic seeping through the pores of the dark halls and keeping the underworld beings asleep.

(he's defeated the gods yet again)

\----

He steps up the path, moving through the filigree of gold and grey, the gardens planted by Persephone, the small flowers of Demeter and he moves and he moves, not looking back even a bit, feeling the presence behind him.

His heart is in his throat and he moves up the final stairs and he sees sunlight shine through the opening of the gods and he moves and he rejoices.

"Hermione", he turns in unfiltered joy.

But it's a step too early.

A step too fast. 

"No", his voice echoes across the cavern, a deathly scream, raw in its tones, as he watches her shadow reach out to him and fade away slowly; fade away from him, fade away into oblivion. 

_he shan't look at her until he has reached the living land,  
or she comes back to bear death's stand._

And the gates of the underworld close to a man who claws and screams and holds the bars with his powerful hands, helpless and broken. And the gods watch from above.

(and turn a blind eye)

\----

The wind blows against the cliff, howling like a banshee, creating an uproar and wreaking havoc on the trees.

It's him and the wind,

and he lets himself fall down the cliff, light as a feather,

free-fall

and he lives to tell.

Immortality survives, even if the man doesn't.

(and the gods laugh from olympus)

\----

He roams now, a madman, through the world.

Alone and immortal.

Too powerful for his own good.

And he looks up at the sky, a man with the life of a God, immortality running through his veins and he screams horrifically and jerks his head in agony.

(his veins are filled with wretched ichor)

 

 

 

 


End file.
